


Atlantis: The Klingon Expedition

by Milo J Thatch (SentinelSpockNimoy)



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Additional Cast Member, Adventure, Alien Technology, Aliens, Gen, Investigations, Major Original Character(s), Movie rewrite, Mystery, Original Character(s), Time Travel, expedition - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentinelSpockNimoy/pseuds/Milo%20J%20Thatch
Summary: I don't own Atlantis: The Lost Empire or any elements of Star Trek that show up here.I do own Kahlaar and the Malbura crew, though.





	1. The Klingon

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Atlantis: The Lost Empire or any elements of Star Trek that show up here.
> 
> I do own Kahlaar and the Malbura crew, though.

"Time jump successful, Captain!" the helmsman called, "Heading back to Sol 3 now." She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Earth, Ensign. The planet is called Earth."

"Yes Captain." the ensign said. Her first officer and husband smiled from where he stood beside her, and she returned it.

"You know the mission?" he asked. She whipped around to face him.

"Seriously? Do I, the captain AND a general, know the mission?" The SIC laughed.

"Right, stupid question. Sorry." She smiled.

"It's alright, Ch'gren, you're just worried about me. But I promise, I'll be fine. The Council has already prepared everything for me."

"I know, I know, but still." Ch'gren smirked, "Admit it. You'd do the same if it were me."

"...okay, you're right, I would." He laughed and brushed hair out of her face. "But don't worry, I'll find the petaq and see what they know. And I'll see if our theories are correct." She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

Her mission, as determined by the Klingon High Council, was to accompany a Terran expedition to someplace the Terrans called "Atlantis", which the Council had reason to believe had something to do with the ongoing conflict with what had thus far only been called "demons of air and darkness". They had searched Terran records in their own time, but all they had found was the date that this expedition had set out. The trip had been publicized as a failure, but the Council suspected that was a coverup, so they decided to plant someone inside the expedition. They had sent ambassadors to make contact with the man who would run the thing, swearing him and everyone involved to secrecy about her presence. What they didn't tell him was that she was also searching for someone who might be an agent of the enemy. She had decided that the best way to start her mission would be to locate the reason for the expedition, the unnamed linguist who had supposedly died on the trip.

When they reached standard orbit, Captain Kahlaar and Ch'gren headed for the transporter room. She checked once more to ensure she had everything she would need: an emergency beam-out/distress beacon, a PADD, a tricorder, and her communicator.

"Your things for the trip have been left at the Whitmore place." the transporter officer said, "The quartermaster got you something to wear so you'd blend in here." She turned and scowled at the outfit, a frilly floor-length dress with a high collar and long sleeves. A big gaudy hat would cover her forehead ridges. She sighed. At least it was black.

"Don't worry," said the TO, "You can ditch it when you get to Whitmore's They know who and what you are."

"Thanks." Kahlaar grumbled as she slipped the thing on over her basic uniform, "Ugh, how did they wear these monstrosities?" Ch'gren smiled as he tied her Klingon dreds into a tight bun before she put on the hat and he gave her the purse that contained her PADD and tricorder.

"You still look beautiful to me." he said.

"Thank you, love, but it doesn't make me hate this thing any less." Ch'gren laughed as she stepped onto the transporter.

"We'll be here in orbit if you need us." he said.

"Thanks. You're in command until I get back, Ch'gren."

"Aye aye, Captain!" he called as the transporter came to life.

She rematerialized in what she realized was the women's bathroom of the museum. She had chosen the location because of its privacy, meaning her appearance wouldn't arouse any suspicion. Her transporter officer had even beamed her into a stall. She quickly made her exit, just as a short fat man in a suit came running by her, followed by a tall thin man in a long coat, large round glasses, and an old Terran explorer's hat. His arms were full of rolled up...somethings...as he ran after the fat man, out the door, down the steps and into a waiting car, where the skinny man finally caught up to him. He shoved most of the rolls into the window of the fat man's vehicle. Kahlaar was about to turn away when she caught the word "Atlantis" coming from them. She turned around as the fat man's ride sped off, the skinny man running after it. Cursing under her breath, she lifted her skirts, thankful she didn't have to wear women's shoes from this time, and ran after them. She smirked when she saw the thin man jump onto the front of the vehicle...and almost immediately get thrown off, into a puddle on the side of the road. She stopped when the vehicle backed up. She didn't know what they were talking about, but the fat man flipped a coin at the skinny one before the vehicle took off, its wheels sending up a spray that soaked the other man. Angered, Kahlaar yelled after the fat man.

"YOU HAVE NO HONOR!" She then turned to the skinny man.

"Are you all right, sir?" She held out a hand and helped him up.

"Fine." he snapped, but then recoiled, "I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean to snap like that. I've just...well, I've had my proposal rejected yet again, everybody thinks I'm crazy, and I probably just lost the only job I could get anymore."

"Working for who, that petaq* who did this to you just now?" The man nodded, and they started walking

"I don't know what a 'petaq' is, but yeah, that was my boss. He thinks I'm crazy for wanting to find Atlantis. He did this to my grandfather, too, when he tried to get an expedition to find it." Kahlaar scoffed.

"That's no excuse for what he just did. Regardless of whether he believes you, you are still a human being and deserve to be respected and treated like one." she asserted.

"Not to Mr. Harcourt. To him, I'm just the guy who fixes the boiler in the museum. I stay in the basement all day."

"So he basically imprisons you?" Kahlaar asked, "Like you are a slave?"

"A paid one." the man added, "A paid-very-little one." He came to a stop at an apartment building with a door whose color had faded in the sun. Ivy crawled all over the front of the building, the windows were quite dirty, and no lights were on

"Well, this is my place." the man said, "Thanks for getting me up and bringing me home. I wish more people thought like you, lady."

"You have much honor, um..."

"Milo." the man said, "My name's Milo."

"Milo." Kahlaar repeated. "Oh, and for what it's worth, I believe you. About Atlantis, I mean."

"Thanks, I'm glad someone does." Milo gave her a sad smile before he went inside. As soon as he was gone, Kahlaar pulled out her PADD and opened the map of the area she had. Whitmore manor wasn't that far from Milo's apartment. Still, her dress was quite heavy in the rain, so she hailed one of the wheeled vehicles as she'd noticed another person doing earlier. The driver was friendly, and insisted she didn't need to pay him when he saw her soaked clothes. Which was fortunate, as she didn't have a way to pay him.

She thanked him immensely when he dropped her off at the door to Whitmore's house. She banged the knocker loudly, and soon a butler opened the door.

"Qa'pla*." she gasped. That was the code word she'd been instructed to give Whitmore or his staff when she arrived at the house, so they'd know who she was. Sure enough, the butler nodded and showed her in. As soon as the door closed, she took off her ruined hat and let her hair down. Then she pulled the confounded dress off over her head, sighing heavily and glad to finally be free of the thing. Then she quickly realized she'd thrown it on the carpet!

"Sorry!" she exclaimed.

"Quite all right, General," the butler said, "Mr. Whitmore's in the exploration room. Just take the elevator."

"Thank you," Kahlaar stepped into the rickety cage-like structure that passed for an elevator here and pressed the down button. The lift slowly descended, and she had to open the doors herself. She walked out into the huge room, her eyes scanning for Whitmore.

"Ah, General Kahlaar. I see you found the place okay." Whitmore had found her, it seemed. The old man, much shorter than her seven foot height, walked up to her, beaming. "Preston Whitmore at your service." She smiled and shook his hand.

"Kahlaar, daughter of Azetbur, House of Gorkon. But you already knew that." He nodded.

"Yep, I knew, But it's still nice to hear it from a real person instead of reading it off a document, wouldn't you say?" Kahlaar laughed.

"I like you already, sir." she stated. Preston nodded.

"Now we just need our linguist, and I've sent someone to get him. If all goes well, we'll head to the port tomorrow and get this expedition on its way."

"Sounds good to me." Whitmore went behind a folded wall and started changing clothes.

"Have the butler show you to your room for the night. He'll let you know when dinner's served if you'd like to join."

"Thank you, sir." Kahlaar said. She went back up and followed the butler to her room, where she lay down and slept right through dinner.


	2. Course Set for Atlantis

Kahlaar woke early the next morning and changed into a clean uniform (her officers had replicated a lot of basic uniforms for her to take. As she looked through her things, she felt something hard and smiled when she realized they had even packed her bat'leth. There was also a disruptor to put on her belt, which she did. She then gathered up her things, checking the room one last time to be sure she didn't leave anything, and left.

After a quick breakfast from Mr. Whitmore's kitchen, she and her luggage, along with Mr. Whitmore himself, were loaded into a car whose windows had been blacked out. Not that anyone would see her at this time of day. It was still dark out. Once she was in, Whitmore paid the driver and handed him a slip of paper.

"That's your pass," he explained, "Show it at the gate, and they'll let you drive right up to the ship. Miss Kahlaar, here's yours. Hand it to the crew person when we board the ship."

"Yes sir." the driver answered as they pulled away from the mansion. Kahlaar wasn't sure how long they drove, but finally they arrived at the entrance to the seaport. The driver handed the security person his pass, and the guard nodded, hitting a button inside his booth. A large chainlink gate slid open, admitting the car.

"We're at the very end." Whitmore directed, "Dock A." The driver turned and drove along the port until they reached a large sign with a letter A. Workers were already loading crates, vehicles, and cargo onto the huge ship.

"This is our stop." Whitmore announced as he climbed out of the car. Kahlaar followed and together they loaded her bags onto a cart. As the car drove off, Kahlaar looked up at the the huge vessel, the cool morning breeze blowing her hair around.

"She probably seems primitive by your standards, but she'll hold up." Whitmore said.

"Actually, I was going to say it's very well built for this time." She pulled out her pass as they ascended the gangway ramp. The crewman looked half asleep as he took their passes. Whitmore then took hold of Kahlaar's cart.

"I'll put this in your cabin. You go on up to the bow. I think some of our crew is there already. W'ell be at sea for a few days before we reach the launch point for the sub."

"Thanks." The Klingon waved and headed toward the front of the ship.

On the morning of the launch, Kahlaar took a last walk around the decks of the ship. She was headed for the bow again when she heard an awful retching sound. She looked up ahead and saw a man leaning over the railing.

"Carrots." he muttered, "Why is it always carrots, I didn't even EAT carrots." He backed up...right into her.

"Ow! Jeez, sorry!" he exclaimed. She opened the container of live gagh that was going to be her breakfast and pulled out one of the worms.

"Here, eat this," she said, handing it to him, "I know, you humans think eating live worms is gross, but trust me, it'll help with the seasickness." At this, the man took the worm without question and slurped it up.

"Thanks...what?" He looked up into her shocked face. For the seasick man was none other than...

"Milo!" Kahlaar exclaimed.

"Do I know you?" She could tell he was staring at her forehead ridges.

"I see you finally got away from Harcourt petaq."

"Jiminy Christmas, it's you!" Milo nearly jumped overboard in surprise. "You look...um..."

"Not human?" She grinned, "I'm not."

"Wow. I mean, I knew there was somebody not human coming with us, but I didn't realize it was you."

"Name's Kahlaar," she said.

"You're the Klingon Mr. Whitmore told me about last night. But...what were you doing at the museum?" Milo asked.

"Looking for you, actually. Well, not you specifically, but the linguist who would be part of this expedition. I didn't know his name, but then I heard you mention Atlantis so I got curious and followed you out. And...well, you know where it went from there."

"Yeah, I do...Hey, I don't even feel sick anymore. That worm thing really does work...and it didn't taste that bad either." Kahlaar smiled triumphantly. She had introduced yet another to the wonders of live gagh. She fished another container of the stuff out of her bag.

"It's called 'live gagh'. Here's some more. You're probably gonna need it." Milo took it gratefully.

"All hands to the launch bay." came a raspy woman's voice over the ship's speakers, "And whoever took the 'L' from the 'Motor Pool' sign, ha ha, we are all very amused." Kahlaar and Milo exchanged a confused glance as they headed for the launch bay. Milo reported them in with Helga, the first officer on the mission. Kahlaar noted the woman's obvious disdain for Milo and the elderly "chef" she was arguing with. Shrugging, Milo joined the Klingon on a cargo elevator that carried them and a group of other men down to the actual launch bay. Kahlaar frowned when she saw the submarine.

"What's wrong?" Milo asked.

"The sub." Kahlaar answered, "Its hull is too thin and weak to be much use if we have to fight anything. It won't last long in combat."

"Great." Milo grumbled. Then he picked up a stick of dynamite that fell on the floor and took it to a black haired man who had just asked him if he was looking for the "pony rides" whatever those were. Then they heard a familiar voice.

"Milo! Kahlaar! Over here!" Mr. Whitmore called. He stood in a sailing captain's uniform, complete with a hat, beside a large, bulky man in a military uniform.

"I want you to met Commander Rourke. He'll be leading the expedition. He commanded the team that brought the Journal back from Iceland." Suddenly, Kahlaar felt a chill from this man, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

"Milo Thatch. Pleasure to meet the grandson of old Thaddeus. I see you got that journal. Nice pictures, but I prefer a good western myself."

"I didn't think you read." Kahlaar said dryly, and Rourke looked up-something he probably wasn't used to doing-at her.

"And you must be General Kahlaar. Pleasure to meet you as well, madam." Rourke stuck a huge sausage fingered hand out to her. She answered with a glare.

"Don't call me that. 'Kahlaar', 'General', or 'Captain' will be fine."

"Very impressive, eh?" Whitmore asked excitedly. Kahlaar nodded for his sake.

"Boy, when you settle a bet, you settle a bet." Milo said, still in awe of everything. He and Whitmore exchanged a few more comments about Milo's grandfather as they walked to the submarine's boarding ramp. Rourke ambled along like a Gorn grunt with them.

"Attention all hands," came the raspy woman again, "Launch will commence in fifteen minutes."

"Mr. Whitmore," Rourke saluted the old man, "It's time."

"Farewell, Mr. Whitmore." Kahlaar said, the old man giving her a smile. "You have much honor. Qa'pla!"

"Bye Mr. Whitmore!" Milo called as he practically dragged Kahlaar up the ramp.

"Make us proud, boy!" Whitmore called after Milo as the door ground shut. Despite her discomfort with the vessel, she couldn't help but feel excited and a little giddy as they were about to get underway. She laughed to herself as she and Milo ran to the front of the sub, stopping on one of the catwalks in the huge glass sphere structure at the front of the vessel, looking out the giant window at the crew of the freighter that had carried them out here. And there, in the very center, in front of everyone else, was Mr. Whitmore, waving as the sub splashed into the water, freed from the hooks that held it above the open launch doors. Milo and Kahlaar waved back as the ship began to sink, the water rising up the sides of the sphere structure. Mr. Whitmore gave them a last joyous smile before the waterline rose above their heads and he disappeared from view. Now the freighter was shrinking above them, and below them, the dark waters of their destination. Together, human and Klingon braced themselves on the railing, preparing themselves for whatever mysteries those waters held.

**Author's Note:**

> *Petaq - Klingon swear word, a vulgar insult.
> 
> *Qa'pla - Klingon greeting, used similarly to how Hawaiians use "Aloha"


End file.
